


His Thoughts

by Kestrelshade



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrelshade/pseuds/Kestrelshade
Summary: The Dragonborn, Kelus Orevyn, reflects upon his feelings for a certain Riverwood Bosmer.
Relationships: Faendal (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Faendal
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	His Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I've been working on a series of fics about my Dunmer oc, Kelus Orevyn. His story has changed since I've written these, but I'm uploading my fics since they need to see the light of day. Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave comments; I thrive off them! :3

“Good work today, men, I appreciate your help. You’re free to go,” Hod said. The Nord lumberjack shut down the mill for the day. It was past noon, but the sun still shone bright in the sky, a welcome sight in winter.

“See you tomorrow, Hod,” Faendal, my Bosmer companion, said cheerfully. I said nothing, but nodded at Hod. Faendal and I left the mill, heading towards the Sleeping Giant for a much-needed drink.

“You’re learning fast, Kelus. If you continue like this, Hod might want to keep you around.”  
“Faendal, that’s ridiculous. I have to leave for High Hrothgar eventually.”

I opened the door to the inn for Faendal, and he slipped by me, continuing to talk.  
“What, is Riverwood not good enough for you? Just because you get a summons from some old guys who live on a mountain, doesn’t mean you have to answer it right away,” Faendal gesticulated.

I rolled my eyes, walking up to the inn’s counter, where Orgnar kept his usual watch over the inn.  
“A mead, please.”  
Faendal paused his line of thought briefly, ordering an ale. We paid Orgnar and found a table to place our drinks.

“I do have to see what those ‘old guys,’ need from me. They shouted loud enough for all of Tamriel to hear, so it must be important.”  
Faendal scoffed, drinking from his tankard. He bounced his leg nervously, fidgeting, boot thudding dully on the wooden floor. Talk of High Hrothgar made him very anxious; the mountain filled him with dread, as he once confided in me.

“I-I’ve heard things. Terrible things about that mountain. There’s frost trolls, some of them as big as bears. I’ve killed a bear before, but you’ve never seen a grizzly in the wild,” Faendal said, dark eyes looking at me worriedly.  
I placed my hand on his shoulder, and Faendal tensed.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ve survived an execution and a dragon attack. It would take something much scarier than a frost troll to take me down.”

“Kelus, you can’t go up there alone.”

I hummed, drinking my mead and thinking. “Do you have any suggestions as to who I should take with me?”

“I-” Faendal went quiet. Something was wrong; he never stopped talking.

I contemplated Faendal. His knuckles were as white as his hair from gripping his tankard. He kept his hair tied in a neat ponytail to keep it out of the way while hunting or working at the mill.

Faendal’s brow furrowed when I asked the question. He always had a look in his eyes, as if thoughts were constantly darting through his mind.  
Faendal downed the rest of his drink, then stood up from the table. “Alright, I’ll be heading over to Camilla’s, if you need me.”

I didn’t stop him from leaving. I knew from experience that he often needed to walk away and clear his head before making a decision. Usually that involved tumbling into a bed with Camilla, but I digress.  
I stared at my own empty tankard, placing it on the table. Faendal was no longer here, and with my business at the inn concluded; I saw no reason to stay. The wooden door angrily crashed behind me and I nearly leapt into the air; it was not my intention to create such a noise. I left the Sleeping Giant and turned down the dirt road, back through the village.

The day was finally warm enough that I could cross the stream safely, without slipping on the icy rocks. Falling into the cold water in the middle of winter was a guaranteed way to lose a few extremities.  
I found myself on the other side of the river, by the rotted tree stump. Faendal and I rested here on our breaks, not that we spent much time laying about. I sighed, falling back into the grass.

My journey so far hadn’t been an easy one; I was grateful for the time that I did have to unwind. I looked up; the mountain-flower blue sky was so vast, one could almost see forever. The expanse reminded me that I was insignificant, although recently people have been telling me otherwise.

I am the Dragonborn. I don’t even know what that means. Nowadays, I know very little about anything.

I have many questions, and answers for none of them. Realistically, I would have headed to High Hrothgar several months ago, but a certain Bosmer keeps convincing me to stay. Honestly? I fear that I don’t have the courage to go.

The townsfolk mentioned in passing that Faendal would make an excellent traveling companion. I’ve hinted to him that he’s free to come along with me, but he appears just as reluctant as I to set out.

I understand his reluctance; the poor mer is hopelessly infatuated with a lovely Imperial woman, Camilla. He and Sven, the town’s arrogant bard, have been fighting over her for ages. My recent appearance didn’t help matters; Sven tried to pick a fight after he saw me speaking with Camilla at the Riverwood Trader.

Camilla was the second friendly face I had encountered in Skyrim after Ralof brought me to Riverwood. I'll admit that her attention made me feel...fluttery. However, I'm glad that I didn't get involved in Sven and Faendal's squabble.  
Camilla's very pretty, but I had a suspicion that she was enjoying leading these two around in circles. I would only add to the confusion if I decided to pursue her.

I digress; Camilla ultimately pointed me to Faendal.

Faendal. I would be lying if I didn't say that he puzzled me. He was kind and generous without ulterior motive; both rare qualities in these harsh lands.

The afternoon I met him, he bought us both a meal at the inn. He agreed to teach me what he knew about archery, all without accepting payment. Hell, I was going to book another nights’ stay at the Sleeping Giant, but then he offered to have me stay the night at his house, which only made me wonder…

I swallowed a lump in my throat. I couldn’t ignore the glances and whispers of the other occupants at the inn.  
They saw Faendal diverting his focus from Camilla for a brief moment, and wondered why I grabbed his attention.

At least, until they learned that I was the Dragonborn.

Ever since arriving in Riverwood, there have been non-stop questions, which was to be expected; it’s not everyday someone kills a dragon.The villagers quieted down after a few days, to my relief. Whiterun’s occupants wouldn’t leave me alone.

People would occasionally sidle up to me in taverns and ask polite questions about my adventures. It always seemed to take a turn, however, when an “accidental” brush of the hand became more persistent, ending up on my knee or thigh. I wasn’t sure what to think of womens’ (and some mens’) newfound interest in me.

My thoughts led back to Faendal again. I stayed the night at his house the night I arrived in Riverwood, offering to sleep on his floor. I didn’t want to kick him out of his own bed; I wasn’t a rude houseguest.

  
He grew flustered when I suggested that, and he invited me to join him in his bed.  
I was suspicious that he harbored some ulterior motive, because nobody was that friendly to someone he just met. Or...that open. He told me his life story, I think to make up for asking mine earlier that afternoon.

The night passed and he hadn’t tried to touch me, with the exception of a comforting caress on my arm. Why did he care so much? I was just a stranger, passing through.

We fell asleep, and I awoke the next morning with Faendal closer to me than he was the night before. He didn’t touch me, but I had backed away before he could.  
He had reached out his arms, hands pawing the bed, as if seeking me out. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched his slumbering form. His ears flickered and he murmured restlessly.

It took months for me to realize that if something had happened between us, I wouldn’t have been opposed.

Maybe past me would have harbored some sentiment, some romantic ideals about how one should only be intimate with someone you can trust, but I don’t know that Dunmer anymore.

Faendal was already spoken for, anyway.

He went to visit Camilla after his shift at the mill ended, which didn’t bother me. I had time to myself for awhile. However, his visits to Camilla were becoming less frequent. He only visited her when something of importance was on his mind, like now.

Otherwise, he spent most of his time with me. Faendal...having his attention was a precious commodity. He got along with almost everyone in the village, and had many acquaintances.

As for me, I was more reserved and Faendal immediately picked up on that.  
He insisted that I was included in gatherings, and invited me to join him on hunts. He never left me alone for more than a few hours, because once you’ve done your work for the day, there’s not much to do. I’ve read all of the books on his shelf at least twice.

I ran a hand over my face. I could wax poetic about all of the nice things he’s done for me, and still not answer the questions I’ve turned over repeatedly in my mind. Was he doing these things because he saw me as more than a friend?  
How would I respond if that was, indeed, the case?

Faendal didn’t seem to mind that I shared a bed with him. Or, er, Camilla, indirectly. He always managed to subtly alert me whenever he spent time with her; I never discovered them in disarray. Knowing Camilla, she’d probably ask me to join in.

My face heated up. Not that I would know what I was doing. One could say that I was uninterested in seeking out a partner as a younger mer. Loving contact with another being was rare for me, if it ever happened at all. Memory does not serve me well.

I wrinkled my nose. It’s very unlikely that I’d ever have the chance to fall in love, and I had made peace with that.

Still, every time Faendal patted my shoulder, I couldn’t help but shiver. Lately, when he was telling one of his ridiculous stories, I didn't hear the words he was saying.

All I saw was the flash of his sharp teeth, the curve of his neck as he threw his head back to laugh at a comment I had made. I've taken notice of his full lips and expressive eyes, some of his most defining features, after that distinctive ponytail.

If I had told someone these thoughts out loud, they would say that I was the interested party, not Faendal, but from watching him with Camilla, I wasn't sure. Whenever he was around Camilla, he talked more than usual, as if he had to compensate for any awkward silences.

The only other person I've seen him acting like that with is...me.

Wishful thinking wasn't going to get me anywhere. I didn't even know what I wanted. I don’t know myself anymore.

I must have dozed off, because I opened my eyes and saw a Bosmer with soft, dark eyes crouched over me.  
I gasped, rolling away and immediately leapt to my feet. I didn’t recognize Faendal at first, and only saw him as the enemy.

I was unsure as to why I had such a violent reaction; something told me that at one point, it was unsafe to be on my back, soft belly exposed. I could vaguely remember split knuckles and a broken nose, which explained its crookedness.

“Kelus? Is everything alright, my friend?” Faendal asked, worried.  
“Y-yeah. I didn’t expect you there.” I rubbed my neck. “I don’t even remember dozing off,” I said, grinning.

Around Faendal, I smiled a lot more easily and often. He was quick with a joke, and he helped lighten the mood when worrying about Dragonborn business sent me into a gloomy spiral.  
Faendal, my first friend, my armor against a world that wishes to see me fail. He’s my protector, and I am ever grateful for his generosity.

Realizing that he was still there, I spoke, “Camilla treating you well?” I sat down in the grass again.  
Faendal joined me, crossing his legs. He looked at me, his brow raised devilishly. “More than you could ever know.”

When he said that, my heart sank, which surprised me. I should be happy for him, that his lady love returned his feelings. Camilla’s a kind lady, although I think that she’s a little much for Faendal to handle. That might be why he liked her.

A question formed at the back of my mind: would he consider me too much to handle?

“Glad to hear it. Is Sven still on your tail?”  
“He won’t be for long, if Camilla has any say. It’s her decision, ultimately; she’d just better pick me,” he said, giving me a winning smile.

I laughed. “And if she doesn’t? There are other women, you know,” I said, mentally adding, “and men.”  
“Nah. We’re going to get married and raise many children together.”

“Faendal, what if she doesn’t want children? You can’t exactly fit more than two people in your house, anyway,” I said.  
Faendal’s ears burned. “We can move,” he said indignantly. His sulky expression was rather endearing.

“If you wish, I’m not stopping you,” I said.  
Faendal eyed me curiously, and scooted closer. “Say, Kelus, you’ve never mentioned leaving someone special behind when you came to Skyrim. Would you say you’re...unattached?”

My heart leapt. “That’s correct. At least, I believe so. I don’t remember much about my youth. It was very, er, forgettable. I kept mostly to myself...”

My memory of the past was practically non-existent after my arrest at the border. I had accompanied a group of “traders,” escorting them to Skyrim as a bodyguard. They were outlaws on the run, for stealing and smuggling rare books from powerful nobles. The Imperial Legion discovered us, and the traders resisted arrest.

The Legion did not take kindly to that.

The mage among the group mis-timed a spell, hitting me instead of an attacking guard. I assumed the spell had scrambled my memories, but I didn’t want to worry Faendal. I already had enough problems with which he’s attempted to help solve; I would not burden him with another.

“Ah. Well, anyone would be lucky to have you,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. Faendal stopped talking, absentmindedly tearing blades of grass from the ground.

“Faendal?” I didn’t recognize his tone of voice. He sounded...wistful, almost?

“Hm? Oh! I don’t know where I was going with that, sorry,” Faendal said. He held a handful of grass in his hand and smirked.  
Faendal deposited the handful of torn grass into my lap. I glared at him.

“You’re walking a fine line, my friend,” I said, plucking blades of grass from the ground. I sprinkled them over his head. He squawked in mock anger.

“You want to fight? It sounds like you’re asking for a fight,” Faendal said, standing up, fists raised.

I jumped to my feet, humoring him. “I didn’t know that you could spar,” I said.  
“The better question, can you?” Faendal teased.

“Swing first; you’ll see,” I said.

Faendal hit me, his fist connecting with my shoulder. My arm felt numb, but I could still move the limb.  
“Lucky hit,” I said, swinging back at him. I aimed a punch at his ribs. He fell back, coughing.

He recovered quickly. Faendal dodged subsequent punches. He battered my chest and torso. His swings were wild, frantic, while mine hit hard.

This wasn’t my first fistfight, if the vague memories were to be believed. My mind was elsewhere. Faendal used that to his advantage.

Faendal buffeted with punches to my stomach. I stumbled backwards, tripping over a tree root.

Faendal grabbed at the front of my shirt to prevent my fall, but I pulled him down with me. We landed in a heap. Faendal sprawled across me, stunned.

“Oof,” I said, winded. Faendal appeared scrawny, but he was surprisingly heavy.  
He sat up, still straddling me, and pinned my arms over my head. My pulse raced, lips parted slightly in shock.

“We’ll call that a draw, although I definitely won,” he said, holding me down a heartbeat longer than necessary. Faendal lightly tapped my nose. I flushed imperceptibly.

Faendal clambered off my hips, leaving me limp in the grass. I blinked, processing what had just happened.

“Hey, wait!” I said, scrambling to my feet after him. “We should have a rematch!”

Faendal walked down the dirt path, making indications that he was going home. He turned, hands clasped casually behind his head. “Maybe one day,” he said, beaming.

I didn’t follow him. Instead, I watched, with an aching pang in my heart, as he left me. Faendal saw me as a friend, and nothing more.

Had someone asked me when I realized I harbored affections for my dearest friend, my closest companion, I would recall this moment in a future time.

I may not ever have the chance to fall in love, but, if Faendal decided to accompany me during my travels, that would be enough.


End file.
